A tradition in Modern American Poetry since 2005. Please visit my companion site, www.virtualpoetryreading.com and listen to some poetry.
Published on January 15, 2007 By Buddah Moskowitz In Poetry
Will there be bibles in Heaven?
or nations?
or wallets?

the first year in Heaven
will be spent
laughing
at our previous imaginings
of the afterlife

and the Jerry Falwells
the James Dobsons and
the Pat Robertsons
of this world
will be there too
looking for people
to minister to
but they won’t enjoy it
so much
because it really
won’t be like they thought
it would
or should be

and some of the inhabitants of Heaven
will be expected
--like the Christians who
proclaimed Jesus as Lord
and the Orthodox who kept
every one of the 613 mitzot--

but those in the afterlife
may be surprised by the absence
of those who said
they would commit their lives to God
but really never did
and acted holy
for every reason
except the right one

their souls may be somewhere else
and perhaps that is where I’ll be

but as I see it
Heaven will have a bible
and a copy of the Koran
and of the Bhagavad Gita
and the Upanishads
and of all the holy books

because Heaven welcomes all books
and all those who find them holy.

Comments
on Jan 16, 2007
What? No one wants to step into this pile. The real question is will there be a copy of Johnny Masuda on every coffee table in heaven? And what about the royalties? Keep asking the hard questions, bro. You're bound to find an answer or two.

Johnny
on Jan 16, 2007
I sure hope there will be a library there.
on Jan 16, 2007
Thanks for the comments you brave souls.

For some of us, the library is the temple.
on Jan 16, 2007
I sure hope there will be a library there.


Kelly said it best.
on Jan 21, 2007
How about some metaphors in that poetry? I like the sentiment a lot, and all... and everyone should develop their own voice, but the creative writing teacher inside of me longs for a few metaphors. Just a thought.
on Jan 23, 2007
How about some metaphors in that poetry? I like the sentiment a lot, and all... and everyone should develop their own voice, but the creative writing teacher inside of me longs for a few metaphors. Just a thought.

Poetry is a wild animal that stands as it is. Metaphors are nice and useful, but it's poetry. That means the artist can use whatever palette they like. Throwing rocks, however polite, is like the red pen of of a writing teacher, more concerned with form than content. It makes the paper bleed. You don't have to like it, but you don't get to judge it. Being a creative writing teacher doesn't give you authority, it just makes you a part of the Ivory Tower crowd--looking down. You should watch Bob Bryan's award winning documentary on poetry called GV6: The Odyssey--Poets, Passion & Poetry. http://graffitiverite.com/
on Jan 23, 2007
I like it. Heaven surely is heaven, but it is also metaphor, because it represents the ideal place. Somewhere in heaven will be a cone such as mine, but a perfect one. Somewhere, feedback such as this paragraph, but a perfect paragraph. There would be people in heaven too though. I think there would be a Dr. Don there, because I embody what it means to be Dr. Don, and, as Billy Graham often says, "God loves you as you are."
on Feb 22, 2007
the eagle turned on Saddam and Attacked

Saddam was one of our warriors way back
we crowned him a prince

he fucked up and we fucked up
hell everybody was fucking up
it was war & shit never goes the way anyone really wants

son went all mad dog in the end
when we decided
to use the kurds
to take him down

HE HITLERED UP
for security purposes
went to war

saddam's head was so dangerous
the executioner ripped it right off
the crowds screamed and cried
tried to drive his mighty spirit away from the gallows
rightly so trembling in fear
at the horror of his coming wrath

His spirit surprised everyone & no one
with a wave and a tear
he forgave them their place in history
as great men do

as
great men

expect



sorry old soldier left hungry alone in your fox hole

wish i could have told you

we are praying
for you


to all enemies we sing: our hearts are still open
our minds are still free

we were not effected
by they great they's
enchantment spells

we too are sickened
by
the
rotting diseased cloak of these lies







we are coming for you

i am
a man of my word
the word
your word
our word



YOU ARE FORGIVEN

forgive us


We just didn't make it in time saddam
this stoic crusader was still marching silently
through the carnage
seeking rank on missions top secret
waging war from under deep cover
pretending always to go along



waiting

waiting

waitng

for the order

to come down




you know how that is

I

salute

u



we all salute you